What would mother say?
by TheCassandraMetaphor
Summary: What happens when everyone's hero takes a turn for the worst, and encounters another captain as ruthless as himself? Can she size him up? Rated M for language, rape/sexually explicit content, gore, and references to tobacco and alcohol. I do not own anything other than original characters, places and plots. Enjoy at your own discretion, please.
1. Chapter 1

*I do not own anything other than original characters, places and plots. All trademarked and copyrighted material belongs to its respective owners.

He was hunched along the starboard side of the Lucretia, one leg hung over and the other was drawn up to his chest. His fingertips scraped along the stubble above his lip as he took another drag from his haphazardly rolled cigar. He had never much cared for the taste, but he had taken a liking to the burn in his throat as the smoke clawed its way down. It was a burn which favored that of whiskey but paled in comparison, and it was nowhere near enough to sustain him. Cigars were merely a placeholder for the beloved drink had grown to hold so dearly. He needed that burn to thrive. He needed his medicine, to feel it scorching all the way down. The shortage had made weary his hopes for sustenance. He never thought he'd see the day that cheap liquor became a luxury. The trade ships and planets the crew enthusiastically ravaged never turned up more than a few cases of the drink and a handful of sobbing young maidens ripe for deflowering. Still, he always found the spoils to be well worth the trouble. He could never seem to get his fill of it all. The drink, the gold, the damsels. And their screams, that served as the accompaniment to his atrocities. It was of no enjoyment if they didn't cry out into the night. This was the life he lived, the life he chose. He was a pirate, a ruthless, brutish swashbuckler. And as such, he felt himself entitled to an insatiable appetite for riches, liquor and violence. He smiled to himself. His thoughts were interrupted by the sharp, crackling voice of Victor, his first mate.

"Zyriphe approaches! What say you, cap'n?

His head fell back and he exhaled, allowing the smoke to cascade from his nostrils. He stood and tossed the remainder of the cigar into the infinity of the Etherium and hopped to the deck below.

"We dock," he replied. "We need to pick up a few things." He flashed Victor a fiendish smirk before placing his hands behind his back and walking away.

"You heard him, men! Stop this blasted boat!," Victor shouted.

Victor glanced at the captain, finding him once again deep in thought. He stared blankly into the darkening Etherium, mulling things over in his head. Slivers of childhood passed through his mind, insignificant scraps that lingered momentarily, then passed to give way to the next approaching thought. Then, his mother flashed into his mind. His beautiful, loving mother. She had been so proud of him the last time he saw her, he could tell. She was practically glowing with it. That pride soon faded, as did his hope and motivation. Things quickly returned to the way they had been. The last thing he remembered was the night they had fought, the night that he yelled louder than he ever had, and made her cry. It'd had been years since that night, since he had dropped out of school, packed his belongings and bolted away into the darkness. His brow became heavy with guilt as he pondered over her in his mind. What would his mother say if she knew that Jim, her Jim, had become a pirate? And, let alone, one of the worst?

The hull struck soundings in the port, the impact jolting him from his haze of concentration.

"Steady, God damn you!," he snapped. "We haven't the time, nor the resources, to be smashing around into things!"

His face became stern and he feared their vessel had sustained damage. His cause for concern was confirmed when Victor shot him a look of frustration and discontent.

"I've received news that she took a hit, cap'n," Victor relayed. "Ole' Irving stumbled on the wheel. Took out two turbines and a good chunk of the hull, he did. We'll scavenge the planet for supplies and do our best to mend the losses, but she's giving no guarantees."

Jim tensed with rage. Irving, the peg-legged bastard. Some helmsman he'd turned out to be. He would never understand why he came so highly recommended. Sure, that was before his leg had been blown to smithereens by enemy fire, yet even after the legendary Battle, the references persisted. Jim quickly discerned that Irving's handicap had become a detriment to his skills, and that the only merit the man possessed was rooted in the fabrications that made their rounds in the underground. He was a poor excuse for a helmsman. The damn fool couldn't keep his footing long enough to steer. He was an abomination, and Jim felt doltish for allowing him upon his ship.

His blue eyes found Victor's yellow ones. "Bring him to me."

"Aye, cap'n." Victor nodded, and slipped away to retrieve the man.

Jim cleared his throat and walked nonchalantly to the center of the deck. He placed his hands behind his back and gazed up to watch the men in the rigging. They were shuffling down to the deck, forming a rough crescent around the captain. An air of foreboding enveloped them, and they embraced it. Their thirst for blood was unequivocal. They longed for it, almost as much as Jim did. Not a sound was heard, other than the rustle of boots scraping against the coarse planks beneath them.

The silence was shattered by Victor's heavy boots ascending the stairs from below deck, the frightened helmsman in his grasp. The sound of Irving's unwilling foot and peg leg dragging along the deck in contrast with Victor's boisterous footsteps was almost comical. His face became paler the closer they moved to Jim. His heart pounded erratically and unrestricted with each step.

They came to a halt, and Victor dropped him at Jim's feet. Jim crouched to look at him.

"I'm afraid you've made a grave mistake, my brother."


	2. Chapter 2

*I do not own anything other than original characters, places and plots. All trademarked and copyrighted material belongs to its respected owners.

In one swift motion, Jim snatched up the collar of Irving's moth-eaten ivory dress shirt and yanked him upward, forcing him to stand. He chuckled as he watched the feeble man struggle to maintain his balance. Their eyes locked.

"Irving Amadeus Krump," Jim began. "A moniker that struck awe in us all." His voice dripped with arrogance. He dug his hands into his pockets and his eyes lowered to watch his own feet as he began pacing.

"The legendary helmsman who steered the fabled Exodus to safety in the Battle of Antiagwa. Took a blow from a laser canon that turned his leg to mincemeat."

Irving bowed his head. Jim turned slowly and began to pace in the opposite direction.

"You know, after a buildup like that, I quite expected a man of your 'caliber' to be able to steer my fucking ship."

He stopped and turned his gaze to Irving, who hid his face in shame.

Jim continued, almost sweetly, "On the contrary, it appears that you can't even properly park the damned thing." He trailed off in laughter. The crew followed suit, billowing at the helmsman's expense.

"Irving, Irving, Irving….you put a hole in my ship. You destroyed two of my turbines."

Jim ceased to pace, and now stood leering over the man. He leaned down, offering his hand to assist the helmsman to his feet.

"It's all right," Jim smiled. Irving gulped, and reluctantly planted his own frail hand into Jim's. He gently tugged the man to stand with him. Jim smiled again at his compliance.

"It'll all come out in the wash," Jim said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Irving's eyes lit up and his mouth fell open as the weight of a thousand worlds seemingly rolled off of him. He grabbed Jim's hand and shook it vigorously.

"Thank you, cap'n. Thank you, thank you!"

As quickly as the helmsman had blubbered his thanks, Jim unsheathed his sword and plunged it straight into Irving's chest, running him all the way through. Their bodies met with the force of the sword, and Jim stared blankly over Irving's shoulder as he twisted the blade with everything he had. The sneer of his voice grazed the man's ear.

"Don't mention it."

With his hand still gripping his shoulder, Jim pushed the body off of his blade, and it collapsed to the deck with a lifeless thump. He buried the sword in its sheath, exhaled slowly, and turned to address the crew.

"Let this be a lesson to you all. You are all easily disposable. The whole lot of you. I've met a million and one of you dirty, rotten scallywags. I can grant you passage aboard my ship, and I can take away just as easily. And I won't lose a minute of sleep over it, neither. The choice is yours. Work, or die."

He stood before the crewman, glaring at them for good measure. Victor dared to break the silence.

"What be your orders, sir?"

Jim took a moment to compose himself, before issuing his commands.

"Go into the city. Take anything and everything you want. If we can't eat it, drink it, fuck it, or smoke it, then burn it. Leave no box or barrel unturned. We shall reconvene here on deck with the spoils. Be back before sunrise. We cast off at dawn."

"What of the body, sir?," asked another.

Jim half smiled. "I'll take care of it. Now move! Get your asses out of here!"

The crew understood. "Aye, cap'n!," they unanimously replied, before dispersing and running off into the darkened city.

"And Victor." Jim caught him before he fled.

"Yes, cap'n?"

Jim smiled. "Be sure and bring me back something to play with."

"Aye, aye," Victor saluted playfully, and he disappeared into the night.

Once the deck had been cleared, Jim turned his gaze to the corpse that lay sprawled out before him. He kneeled and took a hold of the body, hoisting it over his left shoulder. He carried it off the ship and dumped it on the dock of Zyriphe. Something sparkling from afar caught his eye, and he leisured over to investigate. The light of the moons revealed a discarded whiskey bottle. The neck had been broken off, and it was half buried in the dirt. Jim bent over and retrieved it, pleasantly surprised to hear the sloshing of liquid inside.

He put the jagged opening to his mouth poised to take a sip, but he stopped, turning slowly to look at the stinking pile of flesh that was Irving's lifeless body. He leered over it, cocking his head, and proceeded to pour the remainder of the drink over the remnants of the helmsman. He spun on his heel and tossed the bottle as far as he could. He laughed when the sound of a window shattering echoed back from the inky abyss he had thrown it into. He turned and once again fixed his gaze on the corpse. He reached into his leather coat and removed another cigar from the silver case he kept within it, along with a match that had broken in half. Placing the cigar between his cracked lip, he stood on one foot and struck the tip of the splintered match against his boot. The match tip hissed into a blaze, and he brought it up to meet the tip of the cigar. He inhaled deeply, savoring the burn. He thought himself to be much like the smoke: bitter and rough, yet oddly tender. He exhaled promptly, and tapped the ashes off the tip of the cigar. The match he held was still lit, and he positioned it over the cadaver. He raised his head condescendingly before dropping the match. The flames roared into existence, engulfing the body immediately. Jim paused to take in the sight of Irving's body enveloped in the scorching blaze before tossing the match aside and trudging off into the city.

Soon, the cacophony of shattering glass and the blood curdling screams of young women blared in Jim's ears, and he indulged in it. Discordant as it was, he found it to be all the magnificence of a symphony on high. He carelessly strolled along, allowing the katzenjammer of the plunder to drown out everything else. He took another drag from his cigar and hummed a naval hymn quietly to himself, pondering eagerly what treasures he would come across here.


	3. Chapter 3

*I do not own anything other than original characters, places and plots. All trademarked and copyrighted material belongs to its respected owners. First instance of non-consensual sexual contact in this chapter. Brace yourselves, lads.

Zyriphe was in shambles. The crew had successfully infiltrated and overtaken the small port with a fluency and efficiency that could only be perfected by pirates. Half of the town was aflame, the other was being ransacked. Most of the town folk ran amok, while others were attempting to fend off the scoundrels and protect their riches. Their bravery was to no avail; most were gutted, and the remainders were beaten and forced to watch as their belongings were whisked away before their eyes. The women were in a frenzy, running to and fro to escape the fiends who were in hot pursuit of them. In the midst of this chaotic affair was Jim , who casually strode through the town, amused by the events unfolding around him. His humming had evolved into singing, and he was now merrily warbling "Good Ship Venus" while scouring the town he trod through. The glow the flames provided had made the town easily navigable, and Jim spied a tavern just north of himself. The tyranny had put a spring in his step, and he swiftly glided over to the shabby building to scour for alcohol.

He pushed the door open and was dismayed to find it barren of whiskey. The only liquor in sight was a lone jug of rum sitting idly atop the counter. Peeved, he picked up the jug. It had a surprising amount of rum left inside it. Upon this realization, Jim perked up and began to chug it. He twisted his face at the taste. Shit. It tasted like shit. All the time he had spent waiting, and this was his reward. How disappointing. Still, he had to consider his options. Sobriety, or shit rum. Jim chuckled, and resumed chugging the drink.

It wasn't long before the rum had taken its toll. His eyes became heavy, and he stumbled towards the door. His one hand turned to five and he struggled to decipher which one was real. He eventually managed to pull the door open and make his way outside. He staggered into the street, pleased to find his crew were still busy burning and pillaging. He began humming again and lazily turned a corner. In the alley, he was hit in the chest by something soft, warm. He reeled from the impact before composing himself to observe his accidental assailant. Lying at his feet was a frightened, young girl. She wore a simple peasant dress, and she was barefoot. He imagined she had kicked off her shoes while fleeing from his men. Her sweet face embodied her youth; it was a bit dirty, but angelic. Her hair was long and golden and hung around her in disheveled waves. She cowered as he leered over her. He guessed she was somewhere in her late teens, nineteen perhaps. Her beautiful blue eyes were fixated on his, and she watched his expression change from that of confusion to one of deviance. His right hand moved to tangle itself in her hair, but she shied away from it. His brow lowered and a smile crept across his face.

"My, my….what do we have here? A field mouse trying to escape the clutches of the tom cat…" His speech was soft, mildly slurred.

His hand grasped the front of her dress and gently pulled her to her feet. She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing their faces were only inches apart. Maintaining his grip on her, his other hand traced her lips tenderly before sliding across her cheek and down to her chin. He gripped it and pulled her to him, encapsulating her mouth with his own. She whined at the sudden advance, and he pulled away from her. He pressed her against the brick wall of the alley, her wrists gripped in his hands, and she began to writhe hopelessly beneath him. His grip was iron to her, though he held her down with little strength. He tilted his head back and laughed a little, amused by her frailty. He began kissing her again, prying her mouth open with his tongue. He prevailed, and explored her. He quickly switched up his hold on her and gripped both wrists with his left hand. His right brushed over her collarbone before sliding down to feel her breast. He was becoming more aggressive now, squeezing her roughly and grinding into her hip.

She began weeping into Jim's mouth, and, in turn, he began moaning into hers. He wanted to touch her soft skin. He tried to weasel his fingers into her dress to feel it, but it was too tight a fit. He stopped kissing her and removed his free hand from her chest to retrieve his knife from inside of his coat. He placed the blunt side of the blade between his lips and pulled it open. She took this opportunity to scream for help, and he laughed once more. He loved it when they screamed. She was driving him over the edge. Without any hesitation, he plunged the blade into the front seam of her dress and split it, her breasts spilling forth from it. His breath quickened at the sight. He swiftly bent the knife into his shoulder and closed it, placing it back into his coat. He turned his focus back to her exposed breasts. He delved down and took one into his mouth, his free hand tweaking the other. The pink nub hardened in his mouth as he sucked and bit at it. She was pleading with him to stop, strained and nearly inaudible pleas that fell on deaf ears. He bit down hard, and she cried out. He had had enough. He was ready.

He released her breasts, and he flipped her around to face the wall. His hand trailed down her body, over her backside, sliding beneath the hem of her dress and pulling it upward. The fabric gathered at her waist, and he held it against her back with his abdomen. He brought his hand back up and spit onto his middle and index fingers. He maneuvered his hand back down below and found her entrance, burying his fingers inside of her. She cried out desperately now, and again, her cries were dismissed. He prodded her, thrusting a few times before withdrawing his fingers to unbuckle his trousers. He could no longer stand the wait. He was going to have her now.

He gripped himself with his right hand, emitting a low, unsettling growl. He was an animal, conquering his prey. He pressed against her, and she could feel the sting of his heavy breath on her neck. His left hand caught her hip an a vice, his fingertips surely leaving bruises. He positioned himself beneath her and he thrust into her. She screamed at the sudden intrusion, and Jim moaned in ecstasy. He continued pushing himself into her, burying himself as deep as he could until he filled her completely. He paused for a moment, savoring the feeling of her muscles tightening around him. He brought his right hand up and tangled it in her hair. He pulled her head back and sighed into her neck.

"Unh….love, you feel so….."

He began thrusting into her. He started slowly, gracefully. He propped his foot up against the wall for leverage. He wanted in deeper. Her tears flowed freely now, with no reason to hold them back. Her head fell back onto his shoulder in defeat. She no longer had it in her to resist. He had broken her. His pace quickened and he began thrusting harder, grunting with each movement. He was becoming desperate. He needed that release he so longed for. He felt himself nearing his precipice. His grasp on her body became tighter. He pumped into her furiously and unbridled, mumbling nonsensically and moaning louder. Suddenly, he had reached it. His body became rigid, and with one last thrust, he held himself inside her. The bands of his release gripped him one after the other, and he yelped out in unexpurgated pleasure. He spilled himself inside of her, relishing the feeling of her surrounding him. He was panting, coming down from his divine exoneration. He held her against the wall for a moment longer, basking in the afterglow. She was silent, but he knew she was still sobbing.

He exhaled deeply and removed himself from within her. She collapsed to the ground, and Jim kneeled to look at her. He brushed the hair out of her eyes and peered into them. She looked so beautiful. He ran his hand along her flustered face and licked a falling tear from her cheek. He then placed a gentle kiss upon it. He stood and steadied himself, secured his belt, and stumbled out of the alley.

Dawn was rapidly approaching. The sky had already begun to brighten. Jim walked faster, rushing to get back on board the Lucretia. He found it difficult to walk properly. His body was heavy with anticipation. Or maybe it was just the rum. He could not distinguish between the cause of his affliction. He stumbled along, the rum buzz wearing off. He spied the docks just beyond him, and he picked up his pace, hurriedly closing in on his beloved ship. Ascending the ramp, he prepared himself for the damage report.


	4. Chapter 4

*I do not own anything other than original characters, places and plots. All trademarked and copyrighted material belongs to its respective owners.

Jim hobbled up the ramp, savoring the last caress of his drunken state. He happened to glance down during his ascent and caught a glimpse of the gash that Irving had put into the hull. He let out a disgruntled sigh and continued up the ramp. Upon reaching the top, his demeanor softened when he was greeted by the heaps of loot awaiting him. He had gravely underestimated the wealth of this planet. The deck was laden with gold bars and gemstones, and the drubloons were piled high enough that he had to wade through them. He was also pleased to find 9 cases of whiskey, a dozen cases of beer, three bottles of gin and four of wine. It would all be moved to the hull later, but for now, it stayed above deck to make plenty of room for the repairs. A stockpile of stolen weapons had been made as well. He was thrilled to discover that the laser pistols were state-of-the-art, far superior to what the crew was currently equipped with. He picked one up and studied it. It was hand carved out of tropical wood, mahogany, he presumed. The handle had a mother-of-pearl inlay and was smooth in his palm. The sight was forged of pure gold, and the barrel was littered with polished gold accents. Jim fiddled with it before raising it and taking a mock aim at the mast. His eyes sharpened and he lowered the gun when he saw what was attached to it.

There was a young lady fastened to the mast. He thumbed his earring while observing her crumpled form. She had no doubt collapsed to the deck from exhaustion. He had no idea how long she had been there, but knowing his men, he knew it must have been quite some time. She was turned away from him, and he could see bright red rings where she had rubbed her wrists raw pulling against her binds.

When he noticed Victor walking by, Jim snapped his fingers twice in succession and pointed down in front of himself. Victor nodded, and walked to stand in from of him.

"Damage report," Jim said sternly.

"Johnny and Charlie are below patching things up, cap'n. The hole'll be repaired within the next few hours. We had hoped to find somethin' to fix the turbines with, but be this an old tobacco town, we had no such luck, sir."

"Fuck…" Jim knew they had no time to waste. Judging on how many pistols they'd looted, his men had killed most of the guards, and that would buy them a few hours. Still, there was always the handful that escaped and gathered forces in neighboring cities to reclaim their territory. He knew the bastards would be back.

"Vic, those buggers are gonna be back in a few hours, and they're bringin' friends. Hustle up down there and get us the hell out of here. For now, we'll run on 60% to preserve the turbines. If we come across another ship, we're takin' it."

He looked around at the treasure piled on the deck.

"Make that 50%. All this shit is pretty heavy."

"Aye," Victor saluted.

"One more thing. What's with the broad?" Jim motioned to the girl bound to the mast.

"You said to bring you something." Victor shrugged, and walked off to relay the captain's orders.

Jim laughed and shook his head. He had forgotten his request. Might as well make the most of her, he thought. He crossed the deck, kicking drubloons out of his way as he walked. She was still turned away from him when he crouched down to get a better look at her. Her deep red hair effectively hid her from him. He reached out to touch her. She felt his hand graze her cheek and she pulled away. His face contorted in annoyance. Coming down from his drunken state, he was developing a bit of a headache. He could handle his liquor and was rarely sick off of it, yet still, he was tired and didn't have it in himself to deal with her.

"Stupid girl..." She turned slowly to look at him. He could see the defiance in her eyes through the gaps in her long hair. He smiled.

"The hard way it is, then."

He stood, and turned to address the crew.

"Brothers…." He paused, looking down at her over his shoulder. The flame he had seen in her eyes had dissipated, and in its place, fear and anticipation now resided. He turned his gaze back to the crew.

"She's all yours."

An audible gasp escaped the girls lips, followed by a concordance of cheers from his men. The last thing he heard were her frantic condemnations.

"Son of a bitch! You can't do this!" She struggled harder in a last ditch effort to free herself, much like a fly in a web.

He looked over his shoulder at her.

"On the contrary, my dear girl. This is my ship, and I'll do as I damn well please."

She scoffed at his arrogance. "It won't be your ship when she comes and takes it from you."

Jim was momentarily puzzled by her nonsensical rebuttal. Still, he wasn't about to let her get the best of him and decided to play along.

"Well...when 'she' gets here, we'll fuck her up, too."

With that, he winked at her and began walking back to his quarters. Her yelps pierced his ears as he made his way to the stern of the ship.

He grasped the brass bar splayed across the door and raised it, allowing himself inside. He let the door close behind him and strolled over to his table that was tucked away on the left hand side of the room. He'd long ago chosen a simple wooden table over an ornate writing desk. He found that it conserved the most space in his quarters while still serving its various purposes. He soon discovered that at high speeds, it would slide around quite a bit, but he had since had it bolted down to ensure it remained stationary. He plopped lazily into his decrepit leather chair and halfheartedly skimmed through the papers piled upon the tabletop. He sighed out of pure disinterest, sliding down the leather upholstery and letting his head fall back. He drew a deep, relaxing breath before letting his eyes fall closed.

Jim was startled awake by the violent quaking of the Lucretia. He hadn't even noticed that he'd fallen asleep. He scanned the room, his face brimming with confusion. Through his window, he could see that the sun was still relatively low in the sky. He knew that he couldn't have been asleep for longer than an hour. Perhaps it was the engine. Could the ship have been fixed that quickly? His chain of thought was broken by a clamour out on deck. He catapulted himself towards the door and yanked it open. He was greeted by the point of a dagger scraping against his throat. His wide eyes shot up to meet those of the girl holding it.

She grinned at him. "My, but aren't you a catch…"


	5. Chapter 5

Just a quick note: I feel kind of bad for making Jim such an asshole, but this story is designed to explore the worst possible scenario. I hadn't seen any other stories on here portray him in such a way, so I decided to use that as my inspiration and create something new. New isn't always good, though, as evidenced in this piece. Sometimes, it's just downright obscene. With that, I present Chapter 5.

Slowly, she backed him into his quarters and shut the door, never lowering the dagger. Jim didn't dare look away from her. He studied her, and found she was quite beautiful. Her eyes…he had never seen such eyes. They were stern, intense. Sterling gray, with minute flecks of blue swimming about them. They were rugged, yet serene, and they told a story all their own. No doubt a story of pain and wonder that he would surely marvel at. Beside her right eye was a simple tattoo of a black crescent moon. Her deep teal hair cascaded downward around her face in churning waves, ending at her waist. It was loose and untamed, stunningly so, and reminded him of the ethereal tides. Her skin was as pale as the moons, almost iridescent, which puzzled him. Pale skin was relatively unheard of for pirates. Her lips were a delightful red with a hint of peach and glistened with a thin sheen of moisture. Her right ear was exposed, and he could see that there were silver captive rings all the way up the shell, with a looped silver spiral dangling from the lobe. One of her particularly loud footsteps snapped him from his mindless observation.

"Ya know, as dirty as you play, I didn't expect you to be such a looker." Her eyes wandered to look at his feathery brown hair, then slowly trailed downward to examine his physique.

Jim's eyes narrowed.

"What are you talking about? What is your business here?"

Her eyes returned to his own.

"You have one of my girls. Fucked her up right badly, from what I saw of her."

Her expression hardened.

"So, what'd you do to her?"

Jim began to protest, but she cut him off.

"I didn't do an-"

"Bullshit. She looks like hell. Bruises, black eye, markings all over her body."

Jim was unmoved. He hadn't the slightest idea what the crew had done to maim the girl, and frankly, it was of little concern to him. His sole focus was on this mysterious wench holding a cold blade to his throat. Who did she think she was?

"She fought, didn't she?" She shifted her weight to her right foot. "I teach all my girls to fight, and fight like hell. Just like me. She gave it everything she had. And that displeased you…so you beat the shit out of her. Knocked her around. Gave her that shiner."

Jim had become quite agitated at her accusations, and blatantly snapped at her.

"I did no such thing. It was my men. I had no part in it. If you've a qualm, they'd be more than happy to take it up with you."

She was caught off guard when he began walking toward her.

"Furthermore, I suggest that in the future, you refrain from climbing aboard a man's ship and thinking yourself worthy enough to question him, lest you find yourself in a very unfortunate predicament, m'lady..."

She scowled at him before he continued.

"You might just end up like your little whore up there. I'd be more than happy to give you an eye like that to match…"

She suddenly became enraged, reeling her arm back to strike him with the dagger. Jim dodged the attack and jumped behind her, wrapping an arm around her chest and grabbing her wrist. He squeezed it as hard as he could and she winced, dropping the dagger. She writhed in his grip, desperately trying to escape. He'd never had anyone, male or female, struggle so hard against him. She wasn't exaggerating when she said she fought like hell. She nearly freed herself, but he tightened his grip before she had the chance to bolt. He leaned into her and she gritted her teeth.

"Is that all you've got, lass?"

She laughed. "Hardly."

She raised her leather boot and stomped on his toes as hard as she could. He yelped, and immediately let her go. She spun on her heel and clocked him right in the jaw. The connection of her fist to his cheek made his head rattle. He dropped on all fours, raising a hand to cup his face. It was warm to the touch and he could feel it swelling already. She pressed her foot against his chest and kicked him backwards onto his back. Swiftly, she dropped and pinned him to the floor, raising her fist in preparation to hit him again. Without warning, the door flung open. Their eyes shot up to look at the woman standing in the doorway, clutching her shoulder. Blood was trickling from it.

"Ma'am, November and India are dead, and most the whole lot are injured. We got Bravo off the mast, and Sierra n' Kilo are dressin' her wounds. Her eye's looking pretty bad. This damn crew is too strong. We took most of the loot, but they're putting up too big a fight. Their guns are better n' ours."

Jim smiled to himself, pleased that the stolen guns were already of such help to the crew.

The woman continued. "We're hightailing it out of here. Sails are down, turbines are charged, and we're prepared to hyper jump."

Fist still raised, the girl looked back down at Jim. Reluctantly, she propelled herself off of him, and bounded out the door. Jim took off after her. He wasn't about to let her get away with mangling his face. She and her friend raced across the deck, her teal hair fluttering behind her. They zipped through the scattered treasure, dodging Jim's crew as they went. They were too focused on their pending escape to notice Jim and the crew following them. As they neared the port bow, they upped their pace, preparing for the jump. They dug their heels into the planks of the deck and propelled themselves up and over the side of the ship. They easily cleared the small gap between the ships and landed safely on the deck of their own vessel. Brushing some of her wild, teal hair out of her eyes, the mysterious girl laughed triumphantly. She gave her friend a playful shove on the back, and they both breathed a sigh of relief. Their celebration was short lived. They turned to see Jim and his crew soaring through the air, landing on the deck of their ship.

The scene played in slow motion. The girl and her crew quickly drew their swords, poised for war. With a battle cry, both crews collided in a fierce barrage to dwarf all others. Jim and the young woman charged each other in the midst of the scrap, swords at the ready. She grunted and lunged at Jim, nearly running him through. He dodged the attack, and swung back in retaliation. The blades of their swords met with a metallic clang. Their sparring continued, and they seemed to be evenly paired with one another. They appeared to move in unison, using the same techniques and attacks at precisely the same moment. Over and over, they dodged one another, their sword blades clanging on impact time and time again. All around, crewmembers were dying, the bodies dropping like flies. They'd only been engaged in battle for 30 seconds when they all began to float. The ship was preparing to blast off, and only a third of Jim's crew had made it over to the other ship, with another third in the midst of the transfer. The rest were still onboard the Lucretia, powering it up 100%, despite the shattered turbines. Artificial gravity was suddenly engaged, and they all dropped back down to the deck. The throaty roar of both ships' engines was deafening, and everyone braced themselves for the launch. Jim's crew was well seasoned, and most of the female crew had been subdued by them. The crowd on the deck shifted when the ship took off. Everyone was abruptly thrown back toward the stern. Jim and the girl landed within close proximity of one another and quickly regained their footing. She was the only female of the other crew yet to be subdued.

The Lucretia had rocketed away from Zyriphe port shortly after the teal haired captain's ship, and was in hot pursuit of them. The remaining crew on the Lucretia were poised to jump to the other ship. They were coming up fast, flying slightly above it. The female captain knew she had to do something. She rushed over to a stationary laser canon and charged it, grabbing the levers and taking aim at the hull of the Lucretia. She pushed the buttons atop the levers and a shot was released. It was a critical hit. The head of every crewmember whipped around just in time to see the Lucretia explode in a fiery blaze. Flaming debris floated aimlessly about. Jim dropped his sword and his hands shot up to his temples as he watched the last bits of his beloved ship disappear into the etherium. His eyes widened and he drew deep, labored breaths. He was in disbelief. The ship that had been his home for the past seven years. The crewmen that had become his family. Victor. They had been instantaneously destroyed.

Jim's brow furrowed. His body tensed and he gritted his teeth behind closed lips. He turned slowly and addressed his crew, whose hands were busy restraining the female crew members.

"Tie 'em up, the lot of 'em, and throw 'em in the brig. They'll remain there until I decide what to do with 'em."

He turned his gaze to meet the gray eyes of the captain and his expression sharpened. A look of panic broke out upon her face.

"You…..you are going to pay dearly for this, lass."


	6. Chapter 6

*I do not own anything other than original characters, places and plots yada yada. Yeah, you know the drill. This chapter is a bit short. I've been sick for the past few days. How dreadful.

The girls shouted and struggled in the grip of Jim's crew. Their transition from above deck to below was quite a disorderly and rather noisy one. Like their captain taught them, they wouldn't go without a fight. Bucking and kicking, a few managed to land solid punches. One young lady, Tango, bit her captor's finger so hard that she drew blood. Despite their best efforts, their authority was overridden, and they were successfully pinned in the brig. The men had no key to lock the cell doors with, so a select few were chosen to barricade the wrought iron gates while the rest returned to the deck, awaiting Jim's orders.

Up above, Jim was closing in fast on the female captain. He had her cornered. For every step forward he took, she responded with her own step back. With only inches between them, she bolted, and Jim immediately lunged after her. She was unsure of where she was headed, for there was nowhere for her to flee. She knew he was close behind. She could practically feel the heat between them nipping at her back, she could hear his strong breaths. He leaped and tackled her, closing the distance between them as they both fell to the deck below. With her forearm in his grasp, he stood and steadied himself, yanking her up. She yelped and stood with him to alleviate the discomfort. She met eyes with him, shooting him a look that would have blinded a lesser man. He scoffed and spun her around, placing an arm around her neck. Instantly, her hands shot up to grab at it.

"Well, mates, what shall we do this one?" His tone was menacing, seething with ill intention. She squirmed in his grasp, and he tightened his arm. Her breathing became labored. At once, the crew began spewing suggestions.

"Just kill the bitch." said one.

"Nope. Too easy. And such a fine specimen, too."

"Let's take her to Asbiltoc port and sell her. They'd pay right much for her there," another piped in.

"Hmm…not a bad idea." Jim reached up with his free hand and ran it through her long, teal hair.

"This color is pretty uncommon. It would fetch 50 or 60 gold pieces, easy. The eyes would be another 25. And her skin…" He removed his hand from her locks and stroked her face tenderly. She gasped, her body tensing.

"Well, we could expect a couple hundred pieces for a hide like this."

Jim could see that the girl was genuinely perturbed at the prospect of being salvaged like a schooner for parts, and this amused him. He laughed, the crew chiming in to billow along with him.

Suddenly, a voice seared through their merriment. It was that of Kaiser, the navigator.

"Why not just give her a lashing? 'Tis what any other captain would do when one of his crew got all outta sorts."

Jim smiled, looking down at the girl in his iron grip.

"I quite like that idea...aye. A lashing it is, then."

The crew cheered their approval in unison.

Jim unhanded the young captain and she stumbled forward, taking in air so rapidly that she began to choke. She continued to draw in short, labored breaths. Still hunched over, she turned slowly to glare at Jim.

"Bugger that, mate." She shifted her posture to stand." As captain of this ship, I demand that you-"

Jim shook his head before cutting her off mid-sentence.

"How wrong you are, lass."

Her expression twisted into a sneer. Jim's brow furrowed. The tone of his voice was absolute and unchallenged.

"This is _my_ ship now."


	7. Chapter 7

*I do not own anything other than original characters, places and plots yada yada. Yeah, you know the drill.

Her eyes were laced with malice, and her teeth were grit together so tightly that her jaw felt as if it would shatter momentarily. She hated this man before her. This….pirate. He stood tall, asserting his newly acquired authority over her. She simply glared back at him, oddly resisting the urge to lunge him right then and there. She knew that any further indiscretions would only increase the severity of her imminent chastisement, and thus, she chose not to act on her impulses. He stared back intently, his azure eyes registering the smoldering abhorrence swimming in her gray ones. Her festering detestation for him was incontrovertibly palpable. His agitation was evenly paired with her defiance. He grew tired of this strange young woman who continued to challenge his patience. Suddenly, he addressed the navigator.

"Kaiser, take her away. Those bastards have to be looking for us by now after how we left that town. Hugo, get that blasted flag down. We fly without one. At least for now. The rest of ya, you know what to do. Man your posts. Quickly, now."

With that, the crew scattered, and resumed their assigned positions Though this new vessel was considerably larger than their beloved Lucretia, the various tasks and duties aboard airships were universal. Meanwhile, Jim turned his attention back to the livid young female. Her chest heaved with each angered breath she drew. Her untamed teal hair fell in disarray around her strained face, and her iron gaze never left Jim. He returned it, and spoke.

"And you, young lady…"

He slowly walked toward her.

"You are coming with me. Unfortunately, my first mate is dead. Therefore, I will be delivering your punishment. Truthfully, I wouldn't have it any other way. This one is personal."

With the last statement, he stroked his swollen jaw.

"You're a loaded gun, my girl. Quite the opponent. There's a fire there. I've only ever seen it in one other."

Her eyes narrowed before she responded.

"Yeah? And who might that be, love?"

The left corner of his lip curled into a reminiscent smile.

"Me."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. She fully expected such a remark. He was much too arrogant for his own good. Jim's sliver of a smile faded, and he tilted his head back.

"You're a spitfire, lass, and it doesn't bode well with me. And that's why I'm going to break you of it."

A fiendish smile glided across her face, and soon, it had morphed into expression of sheer deviance. Her sterling eyes glistened with a sheen of provocation. She was challenging him, and he knew it.

"Just you try."

Jim beamed at her taunting remark.

"Will do."

With that, he grabbed her forearm and began leading her to the stern of the ship. She pulled against him every step of the way, but he maintained his hold on her. He decided to take this opportunity to become lightly acquainted with the girl. After all, she'd be with them for a while.

"You got a name, lass?"

She grunted and pulled against him again before answering.

"Aye…"

There was a long pause. She continued yanking away from his grip. Jim was becoming agitated. Suddenly he tightened his hold on her arm.

"You know, I asked you that in hopes of you telling it to me."

She sighed, and for once, she became still. She turned to look him in the eye.

"The girls call me Delta. The Navy, well, they call me a pain in the ass. Except for the wanted posters. Those have me down as the Cutthroat Delta Duveux. A little off, but….I don't know. I thought it was rather catchy. The French bit was kind of a stretch, though. At least they got the cutthroat part right, yeah?"

Jim snickered lightly to himself. Suddenly, she pulled against him again, and his hold on her was nearly severed. He caught her at the last second and roughly reinstated his steel grip. She groaned a bit when his fingers dug into her arm. After a bit of consideration, Jim figured he should return the favor and reveal his name. He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head and cut him off.

"You don't even have to tell me your name, mate. I know exactly who you are."

He was a bit surprised. He knew he was a wanted man, but he hadn't realized his infamy was quite so widespread. She had peaked his interest. He had to know more.

"Ah, is that so? Famous, am I?"

She rolled her eyes. If there was one thing she wasn't about to do, it was stroke his ego.

"Hardly. There are a few flyers of you here and there, and rewards have been posted for your capture, yeah. But I've only come across a handful of either. Mostly in the fourth quadrant. Quite a few of 'em on Montressor."

Jim's eyes widened. Montressor. He hadn't heard the word in a long while. Over time, it had sunken to the deepest fathoms of his mind. Even now, it sounded foreign to him.

"You've been there?"

"Sure. Quite a few times. Not much to see, but the people are some of the kindest I've come across. Bars are pretty quaint, too."

"Did…..did anyone speak of me?"

"Yeah, sure. Lots of 'em. And they all want you dead, lad."

Jim swallowed hard. His throat felt as though it were tightening and his mouth went dry. The towns on Montressor were small and sparse. He knew everyone in his own establishment. He had befriended them. He had gone solar surfing with them. He had lived with them. They had watched him grow up. And now, they wanted him dead. He couldn't help but feel glum. Sure, he had done many a bad thing. Hell, he lived for it. Still, he couldn't fight the tugging feeling of betrayal that overcame him. With more thought, it quickly changed to anger. How could they turn against him like that? Jim felt his body tense, and his hand gripped Delta's arm tighter. She groaned again at the sudden tightening of his fingers. In an attempt to calm himself, he changed the subject.

"So….what have I been labeled as? Have the town locals penned me an outlaw moniker yet?"

Delta laughed. "Oh, you'll see."

He was puzzled by her reply until he opened the door of her state room. Upon entering, he observed the massive wall that was plastered with wanted posted from the farthest reaches of the galaxy. He studied them intently. Delta snickered.

"I'm a bit of a bounty hunter, you see. When we're low on funds with nowhere to loot, we track the poor bastards, and turn 'em in and collect the reward. It also keeps the armada off our asses. We turn the baddies in, and they think we're the good folk. It's worked so far. More or less. We try to hand 'em over alive, but we don't always succeed. I've been know to get a little carried away."

She winked.

Jim continued to scan the wall until he recognized a familiar face. A makeshift sketch of himself stared back at him. He read it, and was a bit disappointed.

"Just Jim Hawkins? Nothing fancy or French or anything?"

"'Fraid not, mate. Just Jim."

The reward had been set at 2,000 drubloons, a bit lower than he expected. He scrutinized the likeness of himself for a moment. He sighed and shook his head.

"They got my nose wrong."

Delta smiled. Jim was still holding her arm when he abruptly pranced over to her crescent-shaped, rosewood desk and pushed her into it. He then walked around to the other side and began investigating the contents of the drawers. Delta protested.

"What the bloody hell are you doing? I have things all in their rightful places. Everything's organized. You're going to fuck everything up."

Jim looked at the various messes that occupied the drawers. He raised an eyebrow. His tone was irate when he answered.

"Belay that. I must find the proper equipment to carry out your punishment. And since you won't tell me where it is….."

He picked up an opalescent paperweight off the desk and dropped it. It shattered violently, sending lustrous chunks of the greenish-pink tinted material flying out in a halo around the site of the impact.

"All right already!" She sighed and her voice softened.

"The cabinet. Over there on the wall."

Jim looked at her before walking over to it. He grasped the brass handles on the doors and pulled them open. He was surprised to see a slew of devices piled up on the shelves, ranging in variety from wooden switches and a cat o' nine tails to flails and leather crops. He traced over the weapons in the air with his finger before deciding on one. Delta heard the tell-tale sound of the wooden switch being brought down against the palm of Jim's hand, and instantly, she knew that she was in for a long night. Jim strolled over to her. When he reached where she was standing, he laid the switch on the table. He placed his hands on her waist and flipped her around. He had used an excessive amount of force, making her stumble and fall. She grabbed the desk to keep herself steady, causing her to land with her torso sprawled over the desktop, and her legs dangling off behind her. Jim had also removed a black satin sash from the cabinet, and used this opportunity to bind her wrists. He took both of her hands in one of his, tangling the fabric around both. He gave it a tug to ensure she could not get free, and fastened to stray ends to a pewter handle on one of the drawers.

Delta immediately began to pull against her bonds. She knew she had to accept whatever he so chose to inflict upon her, and she was genuinely concerned. He was her captain now. There was no disputing it. She grit her teeth when she thought about how easily he had overpowered her. He made her feel so weak, and she hated it. She squirmed about on the desktop before she felt a stern hand on the small of her back.

"Keep still," Jim ordered. Oddly enough, she obeyed, and he removed his hand. Her breathing became labored with anticipation. She could hear Jim's heavy boots clonking along the floorboards. Suddenly, she felt warm hands on her hips, caressing the bones. She felt them snake down into the top of her worn out corduroy cargo pants, and she bucked. Jim gripped her hips roughly, digging his fingertips into the bones, and pulled her back to him. Their bodies met abruptly, and she could feel his heat against her.

"I believe I told you to keep still, did I not? That will cost you an additional two lashings."

Delta groaned and steadied herself, Jim still pressed against her. Once again, she felt his hands trail down into the top of her pants, and she offered no resistance. She did not know how many lashings he had arranged to give her, but she did know that there would be an additional two now, and she didn't want to add to the count. She felt his hands undo the front clasps of her bottoms and she shuffled uncomfortably in her black military boots. She attempted to look over her shoulder, but found that her long hair essentially shielded her view, and she could not move it. Jim's hands moved down further and he traced them over her thighs. She could feel his breath quicken as he touched her. His hands slid back up to grasp the waistline of her pants and she felt them being tugged downward. She sighed in defeat and her eyes closed. She knew it wouldn't be long now. She felt her cargos pile around her ankles and was a bit alarmed to feel the cool breeze brush against her exposed skin. She heard Jim exhale deeply, followed by the sound of the switch being picked up, then more of his daunting footsteps. Suddenly, they stopped. His voice intruded upon the unsettling stillness, and she heard the whistle of the switch as it was swiftly raised.

"How's this for trying?"


	8. Chapter 8

*I do not own anything other than original characters, places and plots yada yada. Yeah, you know the drill.

Delta's body tensed and she bit her lip in preparation for her comeuppance. Her eyes clamped shut when she heard the whistling of the switch being brought down. A gasp caught in her throat when it make contact….and she proceeded to open her eyes in confusion at the hollow clank it made. She was certain he had brought the instrument down, yet the impact was not accompanied by the sound of supple flesh being struck, nor did a searing pain develop. Instead, it produced a lifeless pop that echoed through the corridor. The baffling schism between the actual outcome and her expectations veiled her in bewilderment, and a few seconds passed before she ultimately understood what had occurred. Jim had struck the rosewood desk an inch from her head. Her knees buckled beneath her as a wave of relief overcame her body. She sighed, and her cheek bounced against the wood when she allowed her head to fall. Jim exhaled deeply through his nose, the sound dispelling the unbearable tension in the room. He tossed the wooden switch aside and walked over to the desk. He withdrew a small dagger from his coat and severed her bindings. Delta breathed and audible sigh of relief and drew her hands in to herself, grateful to be free of the restraints. She rubbed her wrists to soothe the lingering discomfort. She stood and dressed herself, redoing the clasps at the front of her bottoms. She turned to face him, and he spoke. His tone was calm, yet commanding.

"You will begin your duties immediately."

She began to speak, but he cut her off.

"Wh…why did y-"

"I've decided to appoint Seamus as my new quartermaster, seeing as you killed my previous one. You will report to him bright and early each morning, where you will be tasked with carrying out your assigned duties for the day. Step out of line, and you will be reprimanded. As for the lashings, it looks as if I'll have to get creative with you, lass."

He motioned to the cabinet on the wall.

"With a stash of goodies like that, I can't punish you with a lashing. No, you'd like that too much. And we can't have you enjoying yourself, can we?"

He cleared his throat.

"Now, I have other matters to attend to, and I've spent far too much time on you. Leave."

Delta's expression morphed into a scornful one. She forced out a disgruntled breath before noisily storming out of the room. With each step, she pounded her leather-clad heels into the floorboards. Jim's eyes followed her out the door, unfazed by her dramatic spectacle. He watched the door slam behind her, and turned to examine the details of the chamber that he had previously been too preoccupied to take in. It was larger than his, and far more luxurious, garnished up in the finest of furnishings. All of the facets were solid brass, and the intricate molding along the walls must have cost a fortune in drubloons. The west wall was a mess of wanted posters, while the east wall, as well as the one behind him, were dressed in pearl-white striped wallpaper. The back wall was most impressive, adorned with giant glass windows from one end to the other. The bed was lined against it, and the sunlight gleaming through the windows illuminated the exotic silk linens in a brilliant orange light. Jim wasn't at all surprised. He expected nothing less than lavish of this woman. Quite satisfied with the amount of swank he had allowed himself to absorb, he removed himself from the room and strolled out onto the deck. The loot that the female marauders had successfully transferred to their vessel was piled on the deck. Taking notice that the captain had emerged from the state room, Seamus approached him.

"It would seem that you have appointed me your new quartermaster, sir."

Jim's left hand came up to scratch the side of his face. He was displeased by the amount of stubble that grazed his fingertips. He turned his attention back to Seamus.

"So it would appear, mate."

"Your bonny wee lass relayed your request to me. Rest assured, she's hard at work now. The rest of her girls have been employed as well."

Jim scoffed at his choice of words.

"I believe you meant thorn in my side. That woman….."

He sighed in frustration.

"Dare I ask what duties she has been laden with..?"

Seamus smiled, a look of fiendish glee gliding across his rugged visage.

"Ah. Well, first and foremost, she's been tasked with tidying the latrines. Daily, of course"

Jim laughed and rubbed his eye. Seamus continued.

"After that, it's the washing and then off to swab the deck. She'll be doing the cleaning and lending a hand in the cooking as well."

Jim shook his head.

"No cooking for her. Or any of the others, for that matter. They wouldn't hesitate to poison us. Leave the entirety of the food preparation to Hugo. He'll surely keep us fed all on his own, just as he always has."

"Aye, sir."

Jim gave Seamus a playful shove on the shoulder.

"Away with you now. Carry on."

Seamus nodded, and continued to oversee the rest of the crew.

Jim strolled along the remainder of the deck. He picked up a lone bottle of gin, pulling the cork loose with his teeth and spitting it out. He took a swig as he waltzed along. Delta's girls were all around, completing their various chores. A few caught sight of him and glared daggers until he had passed them by, but he paid them no mind. He continued his trek across the main deck and ascended the forecastle stairs. He breathed deep, relaxing for the first time that day. He savored the warmth of the open air in his lungs, captivated by its sweet smell of freedom. From across the way, he spotted the injured redhead standing over a pile of dust and debris. Bravo, they called her. She stopped to lean on the broom she was holding, the rings on her wrists as raw and red as ever. She spied him staring at her and she sneered at him. He yawned loudly and stretched, a snide display of his rampant disinterest in her and her plight. He took another drink and trod to the port bow, leaning over to obtain a better look at his newly seized ship. He was admiring the enormity of the bowsprit when his gaze became fixed on the figurehead. It was the likeness of a beautiful young woman, completely naked and forged of what he could only guess was pure gold. Her face bore a rather curious and intriguing expression, a seamless combination of adamance and serenity. Two rubies resided in the mock irises of her eyes, and she wielded a sword in her right hand, which was raised for battle. Her hair was long and untamed, and the motion of it had been captured in such a way that he nearly expected it to blow wildly in the ethereal wind. Yes, she fully embodied the palpable spirit of freedom that she had been forged to represent. It was then that something dawned upon him. As if materializing out of thin air, he recalled something long since put away in his mind. He had heard tales of a ship with such a figurehead from around the galaxy. Come to think of it, the captain was quite familiar as well. Long, teal hair, and that black crescent by her sterling gray eye. His eyes widened when it hit him. He swallowed hard in a futile effort to dislodge the growing lump in his throat. His body became frigid with a cold sweat that rattled his very bones. He was struck with the sudden realization that he was indeed aboard the fabled ship The Alpha Centauri, and that the mysterious Delta Deveaux was in fact the legendary, the deadly, and the ruthless Captain Evangeline Mercator.


	9. Chapter 9

*I do not own anything other than original characters, places and plots yada yada. Yeah, you know the drill.

"Spy something you fancy?"

Jim whirled around, startled. It was she. He gulped as he looked her over. She was filthy, her brow glistening with sweat. Soiled rags were draped about her curvaceous frame where luxurious linens had once resided. Their eyes met.

"Evangeline…"

The name was hushed as it fell from his lips, the faintest of a whisper. At once, her vacant face became heavy with anger. She dropped the pail of water she held and her fists clenched. Her fierce gaze locked onto him, and even if she hadn't have spoken, her eyes made her orders quite clear.

"State room. Now."

Her voice seethed with rage, and he knew he could not disobey. Frantically, he strode past her and she followed close behind him. The pair arrived at the cabin, at which point she shoved him into it, slamming the door shut behind them. Jim floundered at the sudden contact. His momentary incoordination allowed her enough time to pick up a stray cutlass that was lying idly on the desk. She snatched up the front of his coal colored shirt and drove him into the nearest wall, his back smashing against it. She grit her teeth and pressed the perfectly sharpened edge against the clammy skin of his neck. He gulped, and she felt the contraction of his throat under the blade. She leaned in close, her face only inches from his own. Jim clamped his eyes shut.

"You will never address me by that name again. Have I made myself quite clear?"

Jim's breathing was erratic, and he hesitated to answer. She yanked him forward and slammed him into the wall again. The back of his head striking against it produced a sickening thud. His wild blue eyes shot open.

"Damn it, Hawkins! Do you hear me?!"

She paused.

"Captain Evangeline Mercator is dead. My name is Delta, and you will address me as such from now on. Should you fail to obey this simple request…"

She cocked her head at him before sliding the blade down his shirt to rest at front of his trousers.

"…and you'll be losing that beloved instrument dangling between those two fine legs of yours. Savvy?"

He nodded three times in succession. Delta released him and backed off. She began pacing in the center of the room, blatantly troubled. Quite irate, Jim cleared his throat and adjusted the front of his shirt. It was stretched where she had dug her fingers into it. He rubbed his nose on the sleeve of his jacket before inquiring about her sudden tirade.

"What the blazes was that for?! You're big, huge! A fucking legend! They tell stories about you, for God's sake! I damn near expected you to be pleased with your infamy."

"Give me one reason why I should entrust you with my secrets, James Hawkins."

She spat his name out like it was curdled milk. Her eyes shifted to look at the floor as she paced. Jim was visibly agitated.

"I am not obliged to give you such a reason. I do insist that you tell me just who you are and what you have planned, though."

She had been much too flustered to notice him draw a laser pistol from his holster. He took aim at her, and her eyes shot up when she heard the gun charging. He spoke, his tone stern and cold.

"Tell me everything."

Delta sighed and closed her eyes. She knew he would not think twice about expending her on the spot. She caved, and began to explain.

"Let me start by saying this: those stories you've heard about me? They're all true. I'm a very naughty girl. And as such, I've got a rather large bounty floating over this head of mine. Me and the girls, we all do. I've racked up quite a few aliases and disguises through my career, of both genders. I've orchestrated many a felonious ploy while shrouded in these various disguises. But for now, I'm nobody. We've been traveling incognito for years. I am a hundred and one different people, Hawkins. And at the same time, I'm no one at all."

She motioned to the wall.

"That poster of me there? That was number one in a series of thirteen. Local, mind you. I snatched them all before they had a chance to become widespread. No one else knows about them. Theoretically speaking, Delta Duveux is a free woman. You see where I'm going with this, yeah?"

Jim lowered his gun and placed it back into his holster. His hand raised to cusp his chin as he pondered her explanation. He remained silent for a bit before responding.

"…..so what you're saying….is that you're worth quite a deal of money.."

Her expression became laced with contempt.

"Yes..."

"Hmm….so, I could easily ditch your ass at the next port, and collect the goods, eh?"

She smiled mischievously.

"And I could easily slip in here while you're fast asleep and gut you from groin to sternum."

She winked. Jim rolled his eyes.

"I wouldn't shoot my mouth off if I knew that the man in front of me was just itching to kill me."

Delta tilted her head back and raised both arms to her sides.

"Take your best shot."

They stared at one another for an eternity before Jim spoke.

"You are going to do anything and everything I ask of you, lass."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, is that so? Hmm….and why would I do that?"

He laughed, and shook his head.

"You don't have a choice."

Delta's face contorted in seething malice. She loathed him even more now, because she knew he was right. Jim looked around at the deep amber glow that caressed the interior of the chamber. He glanced out the window and saw that the sun was setting in the Etherium. Nightfall was swiftly approaching.

"Dinner's going to be on soon. The galley tables need to be set. Show a leg, then."

Delta rolled her eyes and stomped to the door. She turned to get one last word in.

"Go fuck yourself, Hawkins."

She lifted the bar perched across the door and opened it to leave. He caught her with a few last words of his own.

"Remember, lass. Miss Mercator is a wanted woman, and they'll take her dead OR alive. She doesn't have to be breathing."

She promptly raised her middle finger to him, and slammed the door. Jim sighed, glad to be rid of the wench. He, too, walked to the door and exited the chamber. He strolled along the deck for a while before he ran into Seamus. Casual conversation ensued.

"Evening, sir."

"To you as well. Enjoying our new vessel?"

Seamus nodded enthusiastically.

"Certainly. She's garnished up real fine all around, and she's plenty big. The crew's quarters is double the size of our old one. I imagine we'll all be sleeping quite soundly for years to come."

Jim smiled and thought to himself. He was disappointed that they hadn't the time to pause for merriment in Zyriphe, for it was much too heavily guarded. It was then that an idea rooted itself deep within his thoughts.

"Seamus, tell Hugo to cancel dinner and get Kaiser to drop anchor at the next planet we sight. It's time for a little fun."

Seamus raised an eyebrow at his proposal.

"Are you certain, sir? We have not put a great deal of distance between Zyriphe and ourselves. We'd be docking rather close…"

It had been one of the crew's longer days. He knew a bit of merriment would do them all a world of good.

"Aye. Tell ole' Kaiser to anchor at the next port. Tonight, we celebrate."

Seamus looked uncertain, and Jim reassured him with a hand on the shoulder.

"Don't fret, lad. A night upon the shore won't do us any harm."

Jim smiled, and Seamus saluted him.

"Aye sir."

He slipped away to relay the captain's orders. Meanwhile, Jim was rife with anticipation. As he thought of his past excursions and debauchery upon the land, his heart began to palpitate. He could feel his insides rumbling in a discordant plea for sustenance, in more ways than one. He reached into his jacket and removed his silver cigar case. It felt unusually light, and upon opening it, he discovered it was empty. Jim sighed, and looked around. The crew had sorted the spoils on deck, and he spotted a stockpile of tobacco. He picked up a small canister of it before strolling back into the state room and shutting the door. He walked over to the wall of wanted posters and paused at Delta's, then reached up and tore it down.

"She's got twelve more, right?," he muddled to himself. He tore out the rectangular section with her face sketched on it and placed it on the table. Popping open the tin of tobacco, he pinched some of it out of the can and sprinkled it onto the paper before rolling it into a cigar. Satisfied, he plucked a match from his pocket and struck it against the desk. He brought it up to the tip of the makeshift cigar and inhaled deeply, then shook the match out and blew out the smoke. He paced by the massive windows for a while before walking over to the rosewood desk. A bit apprehensive, he took a seat in the chair connected to it and found it to be much more comfortable than it looked. Feeling quite content with the day's events, he propped his feet up and relaxed. He took another drag from the cigar, looking down and watching the likeness of Delta burn in all its flaming glory. It was a welcome sight. Detestable as he found her, he had to wonder why he had spared her life. Was he going soft? Losing his edge? Not a chance. The thought quickly left his mind. It was then subsequently replaced with that of the lore surrounding her previous alias, Evangeline Mercator. She had told him the stories were authentic, but he couldn't help but doubt her. Was this woman really as brutal as the storytellers had made her out to be? His train of thought was interrupted by muffled yelling out on deck. Jim shot up out of the seat and bolted out the door. He quickly discovered the source of the shouting. Jim grinned when Horace screeched from the crow's nest once more.

"Land, ho!"


	10. Chapter 10

*I do not own anything other than original characters, places and plots yada yada. Yeah, you know the drill. Sorry it took so long to publish this! I've been frightfully busy! This chapter is mainly filler. More juicy tidbits on the way soon, loves.

Jim beamed as the vision of land inched closer to their vessel, the fiery torches creating a most exquisite juxtaposition against the indigo sky. Horace crooned from the crow's nest once more.

"Land, ho!"

The crew was in an uproar, the deck bustling with shipmates scuttling about to ready the vessel for docking. The whole lot was celebrating, hooting and shouting, and some were singing. Benji and Finster, the ship's entertainment, lead a few of the men in a shotty rendition of Hangin' Johnny. Slowly, the ship careened through a series of flat, floating rock formations. Each was rather large, and barren, save for a few shacks and shanties. Their sparse inhabitants gathered to examine the unfamiliar craft that trod through their homeland. They happened upon a particular rock, its edges lined with scantily clad maidens from end to end. The majority were snake-like humanoids, covered head to toe in greenish-brown scales. The remainder were of the canine and human variety, and two or three were squid-like creatures. All in all, they were not much to look at. The men scuttled to port to gawk at the girls. They whistled and hollered, which in turn caused the women to show off and shout back in interest. The crew were inexplicably entranced by their vulgar display. Jim was unsurprised. He knew that his men, as well as most spacers, would not think twice about a tumble with these cryptids. After spending months upon a ship with no one but his own hand to satisfy him, the insurmountable desperation would cause a man to pounce upon anything with a heartbeat. Fortunately, Jim had within him a sliver of self control, however small an amount it was.

"Well, well…..you boys fancy a tumble?," one of the squid women propositioned.

Jim laughed. Hard. Benji and Finster were quick to stand when the question did arise. The duo were known to be a couple of clowns, and it was no surprise that they were the ones who replied.

"'Fraid not, love. I'm terribly allergic to calmar. And judging by that fat sore on your lip, I'm fairly certain that an adverse reaction wouldn't be the only affliction you'd burden me with," Finster quipped.

Benji chimed in.

"And we wouldn't dare cross you with that beak o' yours down below. We'd quite like to keep our willies, thanks."

The crew laughed hysterically as the woman placed her tentacles on her hips. Jim paid little interest to the overwhelming amount of ladies on display. These women, accompanied by a stench that rivaled that of a pig sty, gave Jim all the answers he needed. They were passing a brothel, no doubt, and they would not be stopping.

As the ship did round the tail end of the whore covered rock, the crew laid eyes upon their destination: Arcturia. It was a large, glass-like ball, it's globular form covered in shards that protruded at random in every which way. It was highly reflective, and the lanterns that graced the surface caused it to act as a prism, refracting rainbow rays of light in all directions. The core of the planet was a massive cavern, mined for its galaxy-renowned Arcturian sura crystals. There was a large hole carved above the cavern in order to let the sunlight stream in and nurture the forming crystals. It was strategically placed in such a way that it would follow the movements of the sun as the planet rotated. The crystals were of tremendous value, and thus, there was seldom a time that the planet was not surrounded by numerous fleets of merchant ships. Even now, at dusk, they were docked in drones.

The men were stricken by its beauty. Though he had been here numerous times, even Jim himself had always been taken aback by it. He motioned to Kaiser, who was planted at the helm.

"Bring her in, ole' boy."

Kaiser nodded. He turned the wheel sharply, causing the boat to jolt. Two of the men dropped anchor and the ship's movement digressed to a crawl. The turbines of the Alpha Centauri sputtered to a halt as she made port by the glimmering docks. The women aboard the ship dropped their tools and trinkets and gathered in small, scattered groups across the deck. Leaning in, they exchanged looks of malice and mischief, and they could be heard plotting amongst themselves. It was not long before they felt the eyes of the crew upon them, the vast sea of stern stares hushing their whispers. Delta stood by the mast. She dropped the mop that was gripped in her hand and glared daggers at the rugged captain. All was still. The crew gathered around Jim, silently awaiting orders. He was quite puzzled by this. There was a long pause before he snickered to himself and spoke up, quite amused:

"What in the bloody blazes are you bastards staring at? For the pleasures of Arcturia await ye, lads. Away with ya, now!"

A victorious shout arose, and the crew scattered. The women moved quickly to deplete the vessel of their presence, but were immediately reprimanded for their actions. In their sloppy effort to escape, they were wrangled in the twisted grasp of the remaining crewmen fairly quickly. Tango, the woman with the thick accent that had been shot in the arm during their initial battle, was nearly off the boat when Johnny caught her by the arm. The wound was bound in old ivory cloth, spotted with dried blood. He squeezed the bandaged limb tightly in his grip, digging his fingers into the strips of fabric, and swung her around to face him. She hissed and pulled away at the unpleasant sensation.

"Now, where are you off to, my lovely? You lassies ain't goin' nowhere."

She ripped herself from his grasp and she backed away, running into Jim, who was behind her.

"You are absolutely right, old man. We can't have such fine young ladies running off and ratting us out to the cavalry, now can we?"

His left hand caught her chin in a steadfast grip. Her breath quickened and she scornfully stared into his eyes.

"You lot have work to do. I want my ship spotless. Upon my return, she had better be sparkling. You will not try to escape. No one gets on, and nobody gets off."

He released her, her hand reaching up to swat his own away from her. He smiled lazily.

"Ah, yes…and should any of you try to escape…well, I shall be immensely displeased."

His gaze shifted to rest upon Delta.

"And you will not like me when I am upset."

His voice was slow and eerily calm, punctuated by an underlying essence of ill will. Delta scoffed at him. The corner of his lip caught in a smile, and he winked at her. He reached into his pocket and removed a metallic, pyramidal object. He tossed it playfully, catching it in his hand as he walked to the side of the ship and hopped off onto the dock below. Delta trailed behind him, stopping at the starboard side to gaze down upon him. The pyramid beeped as he punched a few buttons on it. He kneeled, placing the object onto the dock. As it made contact with the wood grain surface, a beam of blue light shot out from the top, slowly morphing into an iridescent bubble that eventually enveloped the ship. She knew then that he had implemented an entradorph, a combination lock of sorts. He had entered a code into the device, a code that only he knew. Only he could unlock it. Though she had read about them, she had never personally encountered one. The force field it generated was said to be nearly impenetrable. She cursed under her breath.

"Fuck! Now we'll never get off this blasted boat."

She stomped her boot on the deck and began to pace. Bringing her hand up, she cupped it near her mouth, a common gesture which alerted others that she was deep in thought. Her girls gathered around her. Anxious and exhausted, their hope was waning. Delta grilled over their predicament in her mind, when suddenly, the solution hit her head on. She looked up at her flustered posse and smiled.

"I'm going to get us all out of here, and you're going to help me."


	11. Chapter 11

*I do not own anything other than original characters, places and plots yada yada. Yeah, you know the drill. My sincerest apologies, mates. For I have neglected to update this story for some time now. I moved recently and all the hustle and bustle of house-hopping has kept me quite preoccupied. Please accept this new chapter as a peace offering. ^-^ This rather lengthy segment begins with a flashback. Thought you oughta know…

He was hunched over the bar, bleary eyed, with his mouth hanging open. He observed the other patrons as he mindlessly sloshed his ale around in the pint glass he held. It was a full house, and the tavern was particularly noisy this evening. A few feet away, a local quartet serenaded the crowd with butchered folk songs and shanties. Jim had never heard Bonnie Ship the Diamond sound quite so horrid, and he damn near found himself offended by their atrocious rendition. While their performance was indeed poor, it seemed that everyone was impaired enough to clap along and enjoy it. Everywhere, men shook with hearty laughter, and women danced clumsily on tabletops. Around the venue, the trollops were making their rounds, examining their clientele. They were all painted, sucked in and pushed up, wearing their nightly disguises that they prayed would be worth their weight in gold by sunrise. Often, their prayers were answered. The whores around these parts were snobs. They snagged, on average, anywhere between six to ten catches an evening, and they charged an extravagant amount for their services. The going rate to be seen with these women, let alone have them touch you, was anywhere between 100 to 500 drubloons an hour. One in particular caught his eye. Her burnt auburn hair was done up in ringlets and her mouth was drawn into a luscious crimson simper. She sported a simple, rose colored gown accented with an ivory under-bust. Her frail arms were reluctantly draped around her rather revolting client as he howled with laughter. With a face like his, Jim knew the man must've paid dearly to have such a flower swoon over him. She leaned in and whispered something in his ear, and they both stood. The man then reached down and gripped her waist, ripping her up from the floor and tossing her small frame over his right shoulder. His friends cheered him on as he carried her across the tavern and exited through the noisy back door. The boisterous squeaking of the unoiled cast iron hinges was so loud that he could have sworn that the sound was emanating from inside his own head. Jim knew full well what would momentarily transpire outside that door, and as quickly as they had left, he turned his attention back to his pint of ale. He shifted to cradle his heavy head in his palm. Inebriated as he was, he failed to notice that he had dipped his elbow into a stagnant puddle of gin that had spilled over onto the bar. He had also been unaware that someone had taken the seat to the right of him. From what he could see, the stranger appeared to be male. He wore an ivory dress shirt and brown slacks that were tucked into large, black boots. He also sported a long, dark cloak that he had pushed back behind his arms. The hood was pulled up, impeding Jim's view of his face. After a moment of silence, the man slapped a pouch of money onto the oak slab in front of him. He removed two drubloons, holding them between his index and middle fingers, and placed an order.

"Shot of bourbon. And for God sakes, man, don't dawdle." As instructed, the bartender went straight to work.

Jim was stricken with confusion. The voice….it was a woman's voice. A bit deep, yes, but that of a woman, nonetheless. The bartender promptly sat her drink in front of her and took her coins. Jim heard her sigh. She grabbed the small glass and downed it one gulp. Jim observed what he could see of the woman next to him. Her body language suggested that she was in a hurry. She was turned away from him, tapping the fingers of her free hand against the bar and anxiously scanning the right side of the room. Just then, a group of alien hybrids marched in through the front door, and her fingers froze. As soon as their feet passed over the threshold, they began to violently interrogate unsuspecting patrons at nearby tables. A man sipping his drink muttered something under his breath.

"Inbred swine….can't have a drink without a bloody band of half breeds stirrin' up a rouse." The largest and burliest of the aliens spun around and violently gripped the man's jaw in his meaty hand. He leaned into his face, his rotten mouth centimeters from the man's nose.

"I'm gonna need you to speak up a bit. Didn't quite catch that." The man gulped.

"I didn't say nothing'! I swear it! I-" He was cut off by the alien's enormous fist pounding into his face. He fell backwards over a table and sat up, spitting out teeth. Angrily, he yelled and ripped himself up from the floor, his posse rising from their seats to engage in battle. Both sides clashed, and a brawl ensued.

Jim turned his attention away from the scrap and back to the woman beside him. He gazed at her with heavy eyes and furrowed brow, a million questions writhing around in his mind. He could not understand why he felt so desperate to see her face, but he was unequivocally compelled to catch a glimpse of it. He reached his hand up to pull down the hood when she suddenly slammed her glass down, and swiftly took off towards the back door, leaving her pouch of coins behind. She pulled it open, and again, the creaking hinges rang out with earsplitting intensity, alerting the entirety of the venue of her vanishing act.

"Damnit, there she goes!," cried the large hybrid. "After her, boys!"

Without hesitation, the aliens ejected themselves from the altercation and charged toward the back door, ripping it open and bolting after her. Jim stood as fast as his stupor would allow him, nearly falling over, and composed himself to the best of his abilities. He slipped the pouch of money into his pocket and made uncoordinated tracks toward the back door. His vision was kaleidoscopic. He was bumping into tables and spilling drinks as he stumbled through the aftermath of the fight, kicking shattered mugs and splintered bar stools out of his path. When his seemingly inevitable journey to the door came to a close, he grasped the large cast iron ring and pulled as hard as he could. As the crack between the wooden portal and the brick wall widened, he could hear the indisputable grunts of the aliens running away. He stumbled into the alley behind the tavern, passing the human conglomerate that was the whore and the repulsive man from earlier, and he was certain that a few of their grunts had been interspersed with those of the pack of hybrids that he had heard through the door. He trudged along past them, momentarily coveting their fling, longing for the feel of a woman's flesh. His mind began to wander, recounting days of old, and he smirked.

Before long, he spotted the young woman and observed as they caught up with her, and he was ripped from the mental annals of his risqué past. Suddenly, he tripped over his own crossed feet and fell to the ground. He gazed on at the woman. She was surrounded. It was then that he exhausted his hope for her, but much to his disbelief, it was reignited just as quickly. Without hesitation, she ripped a sabre from the sheath that clung snugly to her hips, and straight to work she went. She was a blur as she spun on her heel and sliced through her first victim's throat with ease. The blade careened through the delicate flesh of his neck, severing his head, before plunging straight into the chest of the alien to his right. As quickly and sharply as she had forced the blade into him, she kicked him off of it and was on to the next target. The third hybrid swung at her, and she dodged and ripped the blade up into his forearm, severing his left arm inches from his elbow. His eyes squeezed shut and he wailed in agony as the lifeless appendage fell to the street below. Wasting no time, she crouched behind him and slashed his ankles. With no choice but to collapse to the ground, he dropped onto his stomach like an anchor, his head resting by his now defunct and detached feet. He whimpered like a small child at the sight of them, evoking momentary laughter from the woman. With the corner of her mouth caught in a wicked smile, she stomped onto the back of his neck, snapping it.

In a sour pairing of disgust and inebriation, Jim fell ill at the crack of the bones separating, and the contents of his stomach spilled onto the street beneath him. Composing himself, he couldn't help but gawk at the spectacle unfolding before him. She was blindingly swift, and his eyes struggled to follow her limber form. The vile snap of the third hybrid's spine was simultaneous with the squishing sound of the dagger penetrating the fourth alien just below his sternum. His fleshy stomach devoured her blade, creating an audible suction as she plunged it deeper within him. She repositioned her grip on the handle and pushed downward with all her might, ripping a straight line down his belly, stopping when she felt the blade tap the top of his pelvis. She withdrew her weapon and he stared at her, mouth agape, while his innards began to fall out in front of his semi-upright body. Her eyes locked onto his, her piercing gaze forcing its way into his own. Never looking away, she plunged her hand straight into his abdomen and snatched up a handful of the tangled mass of organs, and slowly tugged them out. In the crude thrust of shock and disbelief, he reached up and violently grasped her wrist with his own hand. His mouth widened even further in a futile effort to release a yelp, but all that escaped was a sharp, wheezing breath. She toyed with the knotted bits in her palm before raising a heavy boot and kicking the man down. Still gripping his innards, his body dropped like a board, and she watched him fall all the way down. She let go of his ripped organs, tossing them onto his mutilated body. She spat at him before observing her own hand, which was now glazed over with blood. Wiping it clean on her trousers, she looked down at him again, chest heaving.

Jim's blood ran cold. Her fiendish expression contrasting with her angelic face frightened him. She took pleasure in what she had done. He had never encountered someone so fluently and effortlessly murderous, so thirsty for destruction. Not even himself. She loved it, it satisfied her. She was a natural. Eradication was her art, flesh and blood were her medium, and what beautiful works she created. Jim was appalled, yet entranced. The lush, violet sap that had cycled through the bodies of the four men only moments before now blanketed the cobblestones beneath her feet, and pieces of her assailants were strewn in jagged patterns all around her. And yet, her expression was serene and peaceful, even more so than the lifeless, peaked faces of the corpses that lie at her feet. Lifting her head, her eyes fell shut, and she sighed. She reached down and tore an ill fitting shirt from one of the bodies, subsequently using the tattered fabric to clean her blade. Upon completion, she inserted the piece back into its sheath and tossed the soiled linen to the ground. Sparing no effort, she crouched and proceeded to loot the bodies.

Jim dug his fingers into the ground and pushed himself up onto his knees. It took all that was within him to stand. His head was pounding almost as fervidly as his pumping heart. His stomach remained entangled in a figure eight and he fought the urge to be sick once more. His breath was heavy as he slowly stumbled over to the woman. He was close enough to her now to see over her shoulder. He observed the contents in her hands. Her search of the cadavers had yielded three pouches of drubloons, five broken cigars, and a deck of playing cards adorned with scantily clad alien women. Stray pebbles crackled beneath the soles of his leather boots, catching her attention. She spun, withdrawing a dagger from inside her cloak. Merely inches from his chest, the dagger closed the gap between them. He tried to speak, but only a thicket of garbled mush escaped his lips. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Her expression softened as the realization to rob him blossomed in her mind. He was so weak and vulnerable, an easy target. She wouldn't allow such an opportunity to pass her by. Without warning, she kicked him in the stomach, and he collapsed, clutching himself in his rubbery hands. She leaned in assertively over his crumpled body and began to empty his pockets. He stared at her eyes, those iron eyes. He tried to protest, but the ale, in combination with her detrimental blow, had him subdued. She bit her lip as she fidgeted around in his pocket, stowing away the coins, cigars, and weaponry that she found nestled in his clothing. She turned her attention to the fabric cavity on the other side of his coat. She reached her hand deep within it and felt something smooth and cold in her palm. Curiosity sprung, she wrapped her fingers around the object and retrieved a single stone. It was roughly the size of a walnut, deep purple with bright orange flecks caged within it. She held it up in the moons-light, twirling it around in her thumb and index finger to study it from every angle. She cocked her head and smiled at the trinket, turning her gaze back to Jim as she gave it a toss before it disappeared into the folds of her cloak. She continued to rummage around in his pockets when she happened upon a pouch of coins. Pulling it out of its linen cave, it dawned upon her that it was her pouch of coins. Her eyes returned to his, and a scowl twisted up her beautiful face. Ripping him up by the front folds of his soiled shirt, her gleaming, metallic eyes drilled into his own. It was then that she delivered the sole syllables that she spoke to him that night:

"Thou shalt not steal."

He began to contemplate the irony of her odd statement, when suddenly, he felt the firm blow of her fist being driven into his cheek, and his vision became fuzzy. With that, she violently dropped him before backing away and fleeing the scene. Jim's weak body flopped back to the cold stone beneath him. Disoriented, he stayed awake long enough to catch a blurry glimpse of her running off into the night, cloak fluttering behind her. He could feel his body growing cold as he took in short, shallow breaths. The sounds of her heavy boots on the cobblestone became dull and murky as the hands of unconsciousness cupped his ears. His eyes were falling shut, and he was merciless to stop them. Before long, he was subdued by the icy caress of his coma and all he could hear was his beating heart as everything went black…

Ever since he had encountered her again, all he could do was replay that memory over and over in his mind. And once again, he found himself bleary eyed in a tavern sloshing around a pint of ale in his hand. Not long after the incident, the stories began, how she ripped the heart from a sea monster, or killed an entire crew of men with a single shot. The endless tales of her triumphs spread like scurvy, striking fear in the hearts of spacers everywhere. Her existence was one shrouded in lore and exaggeration, for he knew that such feats were impossible. And yet, the very thought of her made him uneasy. Now, James Hawkins would never admit that he feared anyone but himself. Often, he would gloat of laughing in the grisly face of Nathaniel Flint, the devil of the Etherium in the flesh. Yet he harbored within the bay of his very being a vast trepidation for this woman that he had never before endured. He reached into his pocket, feeling the linen-lined void where his prized gemstone had once resided, and huffed in frustration. How had she bested him? How could he have allowed her so? He cursed himself daily from the morning he awoke from his stupor. Watching the sun rise, he had vowed to conquer her, and what better way to execute her comeuppance than to force her to live out her days bending to his will aboard the very ship that he had purloined from her? He cracked a smile at the thought, the notorious Delta Duveux aboard the swindled vessel, mopping up the large and unruly boot prints that he had strewn across the deck. Her scowling face gazing up over the mop handle enveloped his imagination, and he chuckled. Clumsily bringing his pint up to his lip, he took a swig, and his mind wandered back to the subject of his misplaced stone. What had she done with it? After all of this time, was it even in her possession?

Back at the ship, the girls were working in earnest under the cover of night to break free from their makeshift prison. Delta knew what they must do.

"Girls, that piece of clockwork there's an entradorph. Tricky little buggers to best, but not impossible. The data they receive isn't in real time. They run on a time delay, see. Somewhere between five and twenty seconds. All we have to do is pierce the force field and see how long the gap stays open. Then we'll go from there…"

Tango brushed some of her long, red hair from her face.

"All right, then. Oi, Kilo, find something heavy to throw at this blasted thing!"

Kilo nodded, her thick dreadlocks shifting around her angular face, and began scavenging for something to use. Delta sighed.

"No…..this one has a particular code. And probably one of those thumb print gadgets. We have to use a personal artifact of the owner, one that contains their essence. Something they've touched. Something that is significant to them."

Sierra raised an eyebrow.

"We don't have anything. All of their shit exploded, remember?"

Delta lowered her eyes with a heavy heart.

"Yes. And as I recall, we lost two of our own as well."

The deck full of girls lowered their heads. Tango frowned.

"Aye, captain. That we did."

In a show of solidarity, she placed a hand on Delta's shoulder.

"But I'll tell you what, miss. Those bastards may have us now. But they're gonna get theirs. We're gonna give it to 'em real good. I swear it."

Delta smiled thoughtfully as her hope was restored. Tango returned her smile before turning to address the rest of the girls.

"All right then. Raid the state room. He keeps his cigars and other things there. Maybe they'll work."

Delta shouted and raised a hand.

"Wait, wait. That won't be necessary, lassies. I think this'll do quite nicely."

With that, she removed a single, deep plum stone from her pocket and grinned.

"Behold, our salvation. Now, let's blast this prison to bits and get the bloody blazes out of here!"

"Aye!" The crowd of women shouted approvingly in unison as Delta raised the luminous rock and jammed it into the iridescent, pulsating bubble that trapped them. The girls stood fixed with anticipation as sparks flew. A series of bright lines rippled from the gash in a pattern emulating that of breaking glass. Delta turned away, shielding her eyes, as a blinding light erupted from the site of the puncture. The striking spectacle was complete with a loud electrical shock, and at last, a moderately sized hole appeared. At once, Tango charged at the void, but Delta stopped her in her tracks.

"No, not yet. We don't know how long it'll stay open."

Urgently, Delta began to count. She picked up a stray piece of wood from the deck and held it inside the hole as to observe what would happen should something catch in it as it shut.

"1.…2.…3.…4.…5.…6.…7.."

Immediately, the portal zapped closed, and the stick was melted in half.

Delta looked at Tango, raising her brow.

"See that? Would've been you, sweetheart."

She turned her attention back to the lot.

"Now, seven seconds should be plenty for each of us. Remember, get through as quickly as possible.

She turned to gaze to the spherical prison and anxiously exhaled.

"Right then. I'll go first."

She reeled back and struck the bubble with the stone once more, and as before, the whole reappeared. Digging a heel into the deck, she dropped the stone and launched herself through the opening, flipping to the deck below.

"All right, now. Tango, you're up, doll."

She nodded, picking up the stone at her feet. Again, she punctured the force field and braced herself. It was just as she began to leap through the hole that Sierra jumped as well, causing the two girls to become lodged within it. Tango was in a panic, yelling out and writhing desperately to free herself. With only seconds remaining until the hole closed, Tango turned and kicked Sierra square in the jaw and fell to the dock. Her landing was rough and irregular and she came to rest upon her side. She gazed up, her eyes filled with fear, just in time to see Sierra's body cut in half. Her torso smashed to the dock, its dead eyes staring into her own. Tango shrieked, and Delta came to her aid, cradling her as a mother comforts her babe. Both shaking, they held one another. Delta rocked her in her arms, before looking up at the horrified, crying faces of the girls remaining on the ship. She returned her gaze to Tango, who was blubbering mindlessly in her embrace. She took a finger and placed it under her chin, tilting her head to look into her eyes.

"Tango, sweetheart, we must make haste. Have you the stone?"  
Tango coughed before reaching into her pocket. Her eyes shifted and she began frantically digging into her clothes. She looked up in alarm.

"Miss, I've lost it…I'm sorry! I-"

"Shh, shh." Delta wiped the stray tears from her peaked cheeks and scanned the dock around her. In little time, she spied the violet stone and picked it up. Sighing, she shook her head and looked up at her girls.

"We've got the stone. Here, below. We've no means of ascending to retrieve you. It's too far a drop."

Her breath was strained, her voice dripping with concern.

"I'm going for help. I'll be back as soon as time should allow. Keep each other safe, and don't do anything I wouldn't."

Her gaze returned to Tango, who lie crumpled at her feet.

"Tango, lovely, keep yourself safe. Be strong. If we are not strong, we are nothing."

She nodded. Delta smiled in return before charging off in hopes to remedy their plight. She flew through the darkened streets of the planet, passing drunks and tramps along the way. She stopped dead in her tracks when she happened upon a group of men from Jim's crew, terrorizing a troupe of young ladies. She spied Benji and Finster on the ground, sitting comfortably around a large pile of drubloons. The sick bastards. They were gambling, and these girls were the prize. She huffed in anger at the sight. She knew the rest of the band of brothers must be close. She spun on her heel and darted away, guilt festering in her belly for leaving the poor girls with those barbarians. She reassured herself, though, that if she found help, they would all be saved. Cloaking herself in the shadows, she stayed tight to the walls of the buildings, stealthily lurking through the dimly lit town. She spotted the warm glow of torchlight in the distance and charged at it. She smiled, relieved, as she saw it growing ever closer to her. It was the Pillar of Heaven, a lavish pub that she had made a priority to stop at whenever she was in the area. She stopped by often enough that the bartender knew her by name. When she arrived at the door, she clung to the wooden frame while she caught her breath. Composing herself, she rushed in, angering a posse of canine hybrids as she bumped into them. She waded through the thickets of drunken alien bodies and, exhausted, threw herself onto the bar. Unbeknownst to her, a pair of ears were listening from afar. Fatigued, she huffed and slammed a hand onto the bar.

"Gad…." A tall, slender man looked up from the mug he was cleaning in surprise. He tossed a bit of his dark hair out of his face.

"Delta…what brings you he-"

"I'm in a bit of a mixup, see. My ship was stolen by that rat Jim Hawkins. Heard of him?"

"Aye, I have, but ne'er too often. Doesn't seem to be very active around these parts." He leaned a tattooed arm onto the bar.

"Oh? Well, he is now. A right cheeky bastard, he is. And a bounder. He's got my girls, the whole lot of us. Says he's going to wear us out and 'en turn us in to the militia. They're down at the dock right now. North side. He's got a bloody force field 'round the boat. I got out, Tango did as well, but the others….Sierra, she…so you see my plight, yeah?"

A look of concern rolled across Gad's thin, stubble-ridden face. His eyes trailed as he discerned a solution to his dear friend's unfortunate predicament. His dark eyes returned to Delta's.

"I'm out in ten. I'll gather a few of my mates and meet you there. Be safe, Delta."

"And you as well. You have my thanks."

"Aye, but that's not the only thing I have, now is it?" He winked. Delta smiled.

"Among other things." She leaned in and placed a small kiss on his lips before turning to exit the pub. She began to think of her girls. Were they well? And what of Tango? Caught up within herself, she bumped straight into the muscular chest of a fellow patron. She rushed to apologize.

"Sorry, I-" Her eyes trailed upward and she froze in fear upon the realization of what she saw. Cowering, she found herself eye to eye with Jim. He laughed, and the putrid sour of ale on his breath invaded her nostrils. He cupped her chin in his hand and spoke.

"Hello, my beauty. Being bad, I see." Delta gulped. His speech was slurred, but that did not detract from the malice in his voice. He laughed.

"That's okay. I have ways of keeping you in check." He stumbled, and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"And when I'm through with you, dearest, there won't be a toe out of line. You can be sure of that."


End file.
